


Questions

by chrystening



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, internalized homophobia ?, more readers with more sexual experience than the characters 2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrystening/pseuds/chrystening
Summary: You show Jon how men love men.Jon Snow / Male Reader.





	Questions

**Author's Note:**

> So, I feel like its basically impossible to write gay fanfics in the got!verse without some internalized homophobia so here it is (its just implied ig)

-

You entered the hall, looking around for someone in particular. Your partners for today followed behind you, all of them green boys. You passed a few rows being spotting him.

Several of the guys eyed you, their faces strange. One was, in fact, actively leering but didn’t say anything. You had been at the Night’s Watch for six weeks, and it seemed they were all adamant on staying away from you. All of them except that Jon Snow character, who didn’t go out of his way to avoid you, but refused prolonged interaction all the same.

Your only true friend was Sam, really. A bookish man, not too brave, but very kind and friendly.

You approached a brooding Jon at the one of the dining tables in the eating hall with his companions.

“Jon,” you start. He acknowledges you with a turn of his head, but doesn’t look at you. “Lord Commander Mormont says it’s time for our expedition.”

-

“Do you think we’re going to die, Jon?” you yelled over the wind, your words becoming smoke in the northern cold. “Because I feel like I’m going to die, Jon.” You spoke more out of needing to speak than needing answers. You and your fellow Night’s Watchmen split up into pairs. Everyone partnered up until you and Jon were left. You didn’t think Jon liked you very much.

You looked to the man, who was actually was a bit younger than you. You were his senior by three years, but the sullen boy seemed older. His eyebrows were furrowed even more than usual as he braced against the wind.

You stared at Jon’s back. Despite his gloominess, there was a handsome quality to him. The other men back at the Wall sometimes remarked on just how pretty he was, the pampered Lord Snow with his curly dark hair and pouty lips. Your eyes flashed with heat at the thought. Needless to say, you agreed with them.

“Keep moving, and perhaps we won’t,” Jon said back at you. The snowstorm, as if it heard, intensified. A strong gust of snow and wind hit you both like a wave. You trembled soundlessly, trying to hold your own ground.

You possessed nearly no physical strength, admittedly. Your skills as a ranger came mostly from your skill with a bow and your agility.

You saw something large form from your limited sight. A shabby cabin hid between the cover of tall, dark trees. Your heart jumped at the prospect of getting out this storm. It appeared sturdy enough, and there was no candlelight. Hopefully, it was abandoned. But you didn’t say anything and ducked your head further down into the furs you wore.

Unbeknownst to you, Jon had seen the hope flash across your eyes. He paused in his trek, and you stopped as well.

“Jon?”

He nodded his head in the direction of the cabin. “We take shelter there to wait out the storm.” Jon didn’t wait for a reply before starting for it.

 _No need to tell me twice_ , you hummed inside your head.

You crossed the distance to the cabin with fervor, about to surpass Jon when he held out an arm before you.

“Shh.”

He cocked his head at you.

_Take out your bow._

 It had taken you some time to translate Jon’s silent gestures, but you prided yourself on becoming quite fluent in the language. Jon lowered, stalking closer to the cabin with stealth. You truly doubted that anyone in the cabin would’ve heard you two through the roar of the storm anyway.

You readied your arrow.

Jon breathed before knocking hard against the rotting wood of the door. You both waited, ears searching for any suspicious movement. You were anxious, though not for fear of any wildlings hiding out in the small keep. You desperately wanted to get out of the cold. You glared at Jon, a northern man.  No doubt he felt right at home in this miserable freeze.

Jon finally deemed it safe to enter, sending you a look. You inwardly scoffed. Since when did he give out orders?

You both crossed the threshold and shut the door right behind you.

The cabin was far from warm, but it was definitely an improvement. The winds of a coming winter whistled through the cracks in the door, and through the shutters at the windows. A thin layer of snow blanketed the cabin’s interior.

Jon shed his first layer on a chair that sat near a small table. “We’ll head out tomorrow morning when it’s better to travel.”

“Why, yes sir, Lord Commander sir,” you said cheekily.

“If you have any better ideas, I’ll be glad to hear them,” he returned, used to your sarcasm. Your tongue had gotten you a fair amount of distaste from Ser Allister back at the Wall. Jon began shaking off the cowl swaddled around his neck and removed his gloves. You stared for a second, watching the pale light from outside catch on his now bare skin. You hurriedly averted your eyes when he turned to look at you, since you had been still since you two had entered.

“Keep your weapon close.”

“I _know_ , Jon.” You removed your own cloak and furs, absentmindedly as you tried to sneak glances at your partner. Gods, he was cute, you admitted. Most of the men at the Wall were far from attractive. Not only was Jon good-looking, he was your type—dark and handsome.

Teasingly, you said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried about me.”

Jon blinked widely before settling down on the floor against a couch covered in furs. “I just don’t want to have to carry your body back to be burned.” You rolled your eyes. You walked to the cold fireplace mantle. Conveniently, there was a dry log of wood that laid by the side. You took out your fire striker and flint from your pocket. A few tries, and a fire sparked to life. You dropped the log in the fireplace.

The steady crackle of fire filled the room.

You spread yourself on the rug that laid in the middle of the room lazily. Jon’s eyes were closed in rest, not sleep. You both were in an amicable silence.

 _Boring_.

“I don’t really know you at all,” you mused out loud. Jon remained still. “Can I ask you a question?” He didn’t answer.

“Is it true what they say about you?” you began. Your eyes took in Jon’s peaceful face as his eyes opened slowly.

He was quiet for a few moments. “And what do they say?” He looked guarded.

“That you studied the sword at your old home, Winterfell?” Jon’s face visibly relaxed. “That’s why you’re so good.”

“… It is.” He began to look as if he was far away, no doubt remembering something.

You shifted on the spot on the rug, clasping your hands together on your abdomen.

“What was it like?” You remembered being a little silly as a boy. Too many times had you thought of being a lord, having never to worry about food or your safety in the protection of a tall, tall castle.

Jon appeared to be in a daze of his childhood. You waited patiently for him to answer the question but he never did. Jon snapped himself out of it, back to reality. “It was training. That’s all.” You frowned at the vague reply.  Jon laid a weird look onto you. “I thought you were going to ask if it was true that I am a bastard.”

Your heart ached a bit at that. “… I already know that’s true.” You wanted to maybe comfort him, but you didn’t say anything.

The both of you fell silent.

“Do I get to ask you a question?” he said. You were genuinely surprised at that. Jon never seemed to be particularly fond of you. You nodded, curious.

Jon swallowed thickly, preparing. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it right after. He did so again, only to seemingly change his mind. It was as if asking this question was physically taxing. He bent his outstretched leg, bringing his knee close to his chest. He coughed behind his hand. You noticed he was avoiding your gaze.

“For the Seven’s sake, Jon,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Speak.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but you remained unaffected. You sat up a bit, supporting your weight onto your forearms and placing your head in one hand. Now you were really curious.

“Is it true that,” Jon started. He looked like he didn’t know how to phrase it. He seemed… embarrassed. You grinned at the soft pink coloring his cheeks. So cute…

“Is it true that…?” you repeated, playful.

“That you…” Your smile widened. He huffed, before finishing a bit crudely, “Is it true that you like… boys?” You flinched, your amused grin frozen on your face. You steadied your breathing, trying to look unbothered even though heat overtook your cheeks.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Jon looked to the side, awkwardly apologetic. “It was stupid—“

“Yes.”

It was soft, and it was quiet, but it was there. Jon’s head snapped back to you, but you kept yours down. His eyes darted back and forth to things in the room as you refused eye contact. He coughed behind his hand again. An awkward silence settled.

It was an awkward silence, but you supposed it was better than the insults and disgust that could’ve followed instead. You tentatively raised your eyes. Jon had been looking at you. When your eyes met his he looked away immediately. His blush was still there.

You forcibly put on your usual airs of nonchalance and playfulness, if only to make the man more comfortable. You sat up fully now, leaning back on your hands.

“Why do you ask?” you begin, your voice laden with devil’s intention. “Are you _curious…?”_ You level a teasing look, hoping it wouldn’t give away how tense you were.

“W-wh—“ he sputtered. You laughed openly as he rushed to deny your insinuation. “I am _not_.”

“So you’ve never…?”

 _“Never,”_ he said, adamant.

“I would’ve thought you—“

“Never,” Jon replied plainly, finally having gathered himself.

You cocked your head, scanning him up and down. “But they always call you so pretty.”

Jon scoffed. “They only say that because they haven’t seen a woman in years.” He looked back at you. “They call you pretty, too,” he added, with a certain ice in his voice.

You perked up, surprised.

“They do?”

Jon didn’t answer, just choosing to focus on something else. You mulled over the information. The men of the Night’s Watch found you attractive?

“No one’s ever told me anything,” you said more to yourself. Your eyes trailed back to your companion, who seemed intent on staring at the rickety window shutters. A particularly strong blow from outside rattled them against their lock. Some snow managed to blow in through the cracks. Jon remained silent, and you narrowed your eyes.

You supposed it wasn’t important—the guys finding you good looking. But on multiple occasions, you heard them grumble about their vowed celibacy. Multiple times had you caught some men together intimately where they believed no one could see. The sexual frustration in the Night’s Watch was high; you were sure one of them would fuck a hole in the Wall in order to relieve themselves.  At least _one_ simpleton would’ve requested a night with you. _If he didn’t try to rape me first_ , you thought in disgust.

Jon looked positively uncomfortable.

You stared at him.

Remembering Sam’s arrival at Castle Black, some threads in your head connected. His question, the stares, his avoidance of you, innocent Sam as your only friend. You blushed, beyond flattered.

You crawled towards him. When you were within an arm’s distance, his head whipped towards you. At the close proximity, he scrambled backwards, only for his back to hit the seat behind him. You were in dangerous territory, one that could ruin the small companionship you had gained with Jon. And potentially, your life if the news got back to Castle Black. But you felt as if your theory was right.

“What are you doing?” he started, panic evident in his voice.

“Trying to get warm,” you breathed, climbing your way into his lap. You two were now nose to nose. You cast a shadow across his body as the flames from the fireplace flickered behind you. “We’ll be warmer if we huddle together.” Your excuse held no water, seeing as the cabin wasn’t very cold at all anymore. Jon knew it, and you knew Jon knew it.

He turned away, as if it’d make you disappear. You slowly nuzzled into his neck, not getting ahead of yourself. You could scare him away if you moved too fast; not that he wasn’t already fearful of this exchange. It reminded you of when you first realized you liked boys.

Jon didn’t try physically move you. Not even as you breathed onto the shell of his ears.

“Quit it,” he gritted with no real heat.

You undid your shirt and lifted it over your head. You stretched your arms up as you did, pulling your muscles taut. You threw it to the side, looking to Jon with a challenge in your eyes. He was unresponsive, feigning annoyance.

You decided to go further and test the waters. You started to move your hips. When you found his groin, you fastened the pace, enough for you to begin panting. Jon’s jaw clenched and wrinkles formed between his brows where they furrowed. His eyes soon squeezed shut from the friction on his growing erection. You placed your hands on his shoulders to support you as you bucked on him. His head fell to the side as he inhaled through his teeth. You saw at the corner of your eye his hands awkwardly suspended in the air, right beside where your frenzied hips were. You took both of them and placed them right beneath your waist, squeezing them as reassurance. You placed your lips on his scruffy jaw, earning a small growl you decidedly liked.

Jon, still faking reluctance, was hard as iron, as evidenced by the tent in his trousers.

You slowed your hips, focusing on maximizing friction with deeper strokes. Soon, you came to a stop. It didn’t go unnoticed. Jon Snow’s eyes shot open and he raised his head, almost bumping into yours. As if suddenly remembering the circumstances, he grew red in the face, embarrassed. At first, you considered him to be in denial, but perhaps he was just a virgin?

You locked lips with him before he could utter a word, all but ripping his shirt off. He met with your kiss with the same amount of fervor. He did a few tricks with his tongue and you were glad he at least knew this. He sucked on your tongue for a moment and with a moan, you decided he definitely had not retained his virtue in his boyhood home.

When you had started to unfasten his pants, you realized with a grin, he was doing the same to you. You lifted yourself off him, just enough to slide his trousers to his ankles. At the same time, both of your lengths stood at attention, unburdened by their constraints. You looked at his, and he looked at yours.

You traced circles around his head, tauntingly. It dripped, pleading for contact. You backed up and got on all fours. Jon breathed shallowly, looking just short of panicked. You sighed, though not without smile.

You put a chaste kiss on his mouth, stroking his face with your thumb.

“Don’t look so scared. I’ll teach you all you need to know, Jon.”

He puffed out his chest. “I know—“

“No, you don’t,” you interrupt, bending down and taking him into your mouth whole.

Whatever he had to say was lost, turned into grunts and groans. He sounded like he was in pain, trying to resist and control his pleasure. _I’ll get a moan out of you yet, Jon Snow,_ you resolved. You bobbed your head as the slick ran off onto your lips. You were annoyed to see you were out of practice; you had to use one hand to pump what you couldn’t fit into your mouth just yet.

You made yourself go down further, deeper; it pleasured you to have Jon hit the insides of your mouth. You felt your own erection throb. You stopped pumping once you could go all the way, massaging his balls instead.

Jon balked, the sensation foreign to him. You kneaded them, looking straight up at him as his face ran through a myriad of emotions at once. You removed yourself from his cock, bridges of cum thinned by saliva visible in the fire’s light. You committed the taste that remained to memory. You breathed deeply, before taking his balls into your hot mouth as well. Jon looked as if he’d pop a blood vessel.

Taking initiative, he began to fist your hair. His other hand grabbed you and pulled your lower end towards him, so you were turned perpendicularly* to him. The same hand started to probe at your ass, making you flinch. You mewled as you traced circles and patterns on him with your tongue.

You felt them constrict, a warning of impending release. You retreated, releasing him with a _pop!_.

Jon growled, angry to be so close. You laughed at his expression, which made it only darken. He didn’t demand anything of you, however, probably too proud to beg.

You moved backwards, slowly and deliberately. You stopped when you were in the center of the cabin’s rug, the long fur tickling you.

You spread your legs as an invitation. Your erection was dark and angry, leaking furiously.

You blushed, hoping Jon would be open minded. They always got scared when it was time to go the distance.

Jon looked straight between the ‘V’ of your legs, eyes darkening. Your erection twitches, happy to have such an attentive audience. You bite your lip, anxious as he makes no move forward.

“I want it, Jon,” you said.

Jon stood, kicking off the pants bunched around his ankles. You admired his body, and his lack of shame at being seen. You felt suddenly small as he crossed the short distance. He knelt in front of you, laying you down.

You were about to tell him how to prepare you when he lowered himself. He tested it, licking. You felt waves of pleasure ripple through your body when he made contact with the space between your balls and your ass. He suckled and licked, making lewd noises that reddened your ears. Jon progressed lower, lower, until he finally reached his target. Your toes curled as he dipped into you. His tongue didn’t let up, fighting to pass through the tight ring. Your chest heaved as you went scatterbrained, not being able to think clearly.

Jon pushed further, completely in now. He pumped his tongue in and out. You covered your face with your hands.

“I-I’m… ready…!” you panted. Any longer and you’d finish just from Jon eating you. Jon reluctantly retreated, but not before he spat into you. His used two fingers to spread it around. You purred. When he raised his head, you saw his slick lips and immediately desired to kiss him.

You laid there, anxious. Jon didn’t delay, however, as he positioned himself. You felt his head press into your entrance. He started to push past, grunting at the resistance. You urged yourself to relax, to make it easier on him. When he was halfway inside, he looked down at you, smirking.

“You’re tight,” he grinned.

It wasn’t exactly dirty talk, but heat panged in your belly all the same. “S-shut up,” you returned, with no bite. You weren’t used to being teased.

Jon chuckled, amused—was that the first time you heard him laugh?—and returned to trying to penetrate you in entirety. Tears prickled at your eyes, but the pleasure overrode the pain of being forced to open wide. It had been too long.

“ _J-Jon!_ ” you yelped as he landed.

He was in, from head to base. He steadied himself and dug his fingers into the rug. Jon pulled out halfway. Then, he pumped forward into you. And again. _And again._

You quickly became a writhing mess under him. Every thrust arched your back off the ground, and every withdrawal had you gasping for air. Your hand found his, and you laced your fingers together. This caught his attention, as he had his eyes closed while he mounted you. Through slight blurry vision you saw Jon look down at you, expression changing from curiosity to satisfaction. He continued to fuck you with newfound energy, probably encouraged by your clear approval. Your body buzzed all over when you heard him, _finally,_ let out a low moan.

You could feel his strokes become less strategic and more intent on increasing friction to finish. His bucks were short and frantic. Jon used one of his arms to scoop you up so you were just above the floor and completely flush against his body. His thrusts became animalistic, focused on only on doing more, _feeling_ more.

You wrapped both arms around the young wolf. He pulled you back with him, as he sat on his haunches. He was hardly moving at this point, really. He used his arm strength to bring you down on his cock, and he met you halfway with his hips.

“Jon,” you pleaded. “Finish inside, Jon.” You suspected that Jon probably didn’t have the restraint anymore to pull out anyway.

Jon hissed, growling expletives as he approached his peak. When he did, his body tensed, all his muscles taut. He shot into you his hot seed. You felt satisfyingly full and warm. Your orgasm followed only a second later, much of your load landing on his taut stomach. You embraced him tightly as he bucked into you a few times more, emptying himself. You felt your semen smear onto your own belly, in a way that was sticky but not disliked.

Jon’s body soon sagged with relief. In the silence, all you could hear was you both panting.

-

You laid next to your partner, facing him on your side while he was on his back. He wasn’t faced to you at all, staring up at the ceiling. You would’ve felt a bit offended if not for his arm curling around your waist.

“We broke our vows,” he said, as if it was a revelation.

“’I shall take no _wife_ ,’” you reminded. “And we are not women.”

You ran your fingers on his chest, which rose and fell with his breathing.

“So, how long have you liked me, Jon Snow?” you breathed.

He shut his eyes and was silent for a long time.

“Three weeks, I think,” he said finally. “That was,” he turned to you for the first time, “the first time I really knew it.” He looked into your eyes, scanning your face. “Probably before then.”

“Have you ever liked a man before?” Jon shook his head.

“Never laid with a man before?” Shake of the head.

“Never laid with _anyone_ before?” Shake of the head. That actually, surprised you.

You brushed a curl out from his face. “Are you why none of the Night’s Watch has tried anything with me?” you breathed.

He sat up, confusion evident. “How’d you—“

“I remember when you threatened some of the guys to stay from Sam.” You kissed his nose. “You’re such a good friend. And a romantic.”

He wiggled his nose cutely and frowned. “I am no _romantic_.”

“You are,” you teased. “I can tell.” You moved closer, your lips just above his ear. _“Romantic boys are good with their tongues.”_

He sputtered for a second before quieting down, blushing.

You grinned widely, content in watching him. He watched you, too. He swooped in for a kiss with a smoothness that surprised you. It lasted for a long time, and you could hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Well, now,” he began. “I… am yours.” His eyes searched for confirmation in yours.

“I am yours,” you assured softly.

Together, you both finished, “And you are mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> *lolololol I try not to put too many positions in smut bc it gets confusing so if this description was weird to think of, here's what i was thinking: http://i.imgur.com/mac9jP7.png
> 
> Stay tuned for part 2, where jon is lord commander :^)
> 
> R&R? request something??


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